


Radiance

by Jaybeefoxy



Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Jokes, Do Not Translate, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Flufftober, Flufftober prompts 2020, M/M, Mystrade fluff, You do not have permission to post to another site, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeefoxy/pseuds/Jaybeefoxy
Summary: Gregory's smile is radiant.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Flufftober Prompts 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950532
Comments: 7
Kudos: 87





	Radiance

**Author's Note:**

> Part 11 of Flufftober Mystrade Prompts 2020.   
> Warning: this is a bit crack... beware dad jokes. A short and silly one to cheer you all up (hopefully).

“How was your day?” Mycroft asked as Greg arrived home that evening. Greg smiled, kissed his husband, then toed off his shoes and hung up his coat. 

“Not too bad, all things considered.” Greg followed Mycroft into the lounge. “Apparently a bunch of thieves stole all the motorway signs on the M1 up in Yorkshire.”

“Really? How inconvenient.”

“Yeah, police are now looking for Leeds…” Greg deadpanned. It took Mycroft a few seconds to process his husband’s words and when he rolled his eyes, Greg burst out laughing. 

“It seems,” Mycroft observed, “that your day has been rather better than mine, if you come home in such good spirits.”

“Aw, sorry, love. How bad was it?” 

“Tedious,” Mycroft murmured, “and perhaps not helped by your frankly terrible jokes.”

“Oh, I’ve got worse ones than that,” Greg assured him. 

“Why do I feel as though you are about to qualify that statement?”

Greg grinned. When he smiled, it lit his face, giving it a **radiance** hitherto unknown anywhere else in the Universe. As far as Mycroft was concerned. He had never experienced anybody who could lift his heart and brighten a room with a mere grin. “What about the thief who nicked the tires off a police car then?” Greg said.

“I suspect you will work _tirelessly_ to find him?” Mycroft suggested, dryly, proving two could play at that game. He headed into the kitchen, and Greg followed him, chuckling, catching up as he began to drag pans out of the cupboard. “How about pasta for dinner?” Mycroft asked. “Something simple. Linguine tossed with bacon, mushrooms, and pesto?”

“Mm, sounds good.” Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and hugged. “You want me to cook?”

Mycroft turned in his arms and planted a kiss on Greg’s nose. “Heaven forbid, Gregory. I am perfectly capable. I thought it was my turn anyway.” He extricated himself gently and handed Greg a pan. “However, you may help. Why don’t you get the pasta sorted, my dear?”

“I can manage that.” 

“No more terrible puns?” Mycroft enquired, cautiously, watching Greg locate the bag of pasta and portion it out.

“I thought you’d rather I shut up,” Greg said with a patient smile, filling the pan and setting it on the hob. 

“Please, do not misunderstand, Gregory, I do enjoy your humour,” Mycroft admitted. “Your face is radiant when you smile.” Greg grinned at that, proving Mycroft’s point. “My day was rather tedious, as I said, and I can only wish you had been there to alleviate the boredom.”

“Knowing what you always say about your colleagues, I don’t think anybody would have appreciated my sense of humour, do you?”

“Perhaps not, but I would have enjoyed seeing their reactions.”

“Okay then, so…” Greg considered his next move. “I remember when we had to warn a man about his dogs chasing people on bikes. He told us that was ridiculous. His dogs didn’t own any bikes…” Greg gleefully watched Mycroft stifle a groan. “Alright, one more and I’ll put you out of your misery,” he said. “So, someone stole the toilet seats from Scotland Yard today.” He watched Mycroft pause in cutting up tomatoes. Greg waited. 

“Well? Do tell,” Mycroft urged. “Do not keep me in suspense, Gregory. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“We had nothing to go on…” 


End file.
